


Hubris

by meet me at dagobah (Ejunkiet)



Series: forged and broken [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Cunnilingus, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Intercrural Sex, Internal Conflict, Jedi Training, Resolved Sexual Tension, where did this even come from
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-14 13:52:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5746237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ejunkiet/pseuds/meet%20me%20at%20dagobah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>She'd been there for little over two months before Luke Skywalker called a halt to her training and told her she needed to leave. </em>
</p><p>--</p><p>A story about connections, forged and broken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Until we meet again

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this came from, but I'm going to blame international flights and the inevitable jet lag for what this has become. Four chapters at least, with way too much plot for what is, basically, an excuse for writing gratuitous smut. Read the tags for an idea of what's coming. 
> 
> P.s. just so you know, the working title for this was "going Solo". ;D

"It's time, Rey."

She'd been there for little over two months before Luke Skywalker called a halt to her training and told her she needed to leave. It was for further training, ostensibly, but she could guess at the true reason easily enough, had felt it within her ever since that final show down on Starkiller: there was darkness within her, however repressed, and their training could continue no further.

"Master Skywalker, please-"

"You must go. Once you confront your darkness and overcome it, we can resume your training." His gaze softens briefly, and he places his hand against her cheek, his touch comforting and affectionate even as he severs the connection between them. "Don't be afraid."

With his final words hanging like a physical thing in the air between them, he leaves her, returning to the small dwelling he calls his own while she stays on the bluffs, staring out across the vast swathes of water. Although she can hear his retreating steps, she can no longer sense him using the force; the fledgling connection that had been forged between them as master and student gone, as if it had never existed in the first place.

Slowly, she lowers herself down onto the mossy stone, arranging her limbs into the lotus position and channeling her breathing. She spends the rest of the night on the bluffs sunk deep into the ebb and flow of energy around her, losing herself within the comforting pulse of the Force.

\--

Chewbacca arrives a day later to take her from the Island back to D'Qar. It hadn’t taken her long to pack up her scarce belongings for the trip, as she had never had many belongings to begin with, and had never picked up the habit of keeping items with no useful value. All in all, it’s a meager pile: several changes of clothes, the last of her ration packs, and her lightsaber.

 _Her_ lightsaber. Luke had rebuffed every attempt she’d made to return the weapon, stating that it was no longer his. She’d pledged to make one last attempt before she left, but was faced with the stark reality that without their link, she had no way of pinpointing his location on the island, especially if he didn’t want to be found.

When the time finally comes, she boards the Millennium Falcon alone, lightsaber in hand and her heart heavy within her chest.

\--

It’s easy to fall back into the routine of piloting the Falcon.

Chewbacca cedes the pilot’s seat without so much as a grunt, settling easily into the role of her co-pilot as they work together to bring the flight systems back online. It’s comforting to return to familiar routines, and it does a lot to ease the tightness in her chest as she coaxes the Falcon’s systems to full power, and she smiles at Chewie’s pleased growl as the engines kick into life beneath them.

_“You’ve gotten better at handling her.”_

As the ship lifts from the shoreline, and she primes the engines for entry into atmo, she can’t help but steal one last look at the island. Her breath catches when she sees a form on the bluffs, hand raised in farewell, and she can sense him at the edges of her consciousness: warm, and compassionate.

_Until we meet again._

She has just enough time to return the gesture, her hand pressed against the port side window, before the ship’s engines fire, and the small island and its sole inhabitant become just a smudge of colour in the blue waters below. Soon enough, the entire planet is just a speck in the vast depths of space behind them, and the last, faint traces of Luke Skywalker fade from her mind.

\--

Notice of her orders were sent ahead, so that when she arrives at the resistance base, she barely has enough time for a heartfelt reunion with Finn and BB-8, the ex-stormtrooper looking stronger than ever after months of physical therapy, before she’s herded towards the civilian transport yard and shown to her ship.

It’s a small civilian vehicle, built for speed rather than endurance, and it’s pretty much the smallest ship possible that could be outfitted with a hyperdrive, but it’s comfortable and well-furnished, and _hers_. It’s a luxury compared to the scrap she used to live in on Jakku, and it’s already primed for flight, filled with supplies and enough fuel to take her around the entire outer rim of the galaxy.

Updating the navigation with the coordinates given to her by her astromech, she is surprised when the identity of her objective flashes on the screen. It’s a small planet on the edge of the outer rim territories, far from the handful of systems that formed the New Republic, one she hasn’t heard of before.

Dagobah.

\--

Dagobah is a shit hole.

She shouldn’t be surprised by that fact, especially from the research she'd done on the swamp planet during her journey. There’s no ignoring the fact that there is power here, too, though: the planet acting as a conduit to amplify her connection with the Force. It’s a powerful thing, and she feels stronger, a part of the massive flux and flow of energy that saturates this system. The sensation is as beautiful as it is terrifying.

The planet itself, however, leaves little to be desired. The landscape is a mire of noxious fumes and arid swamp land, smothered by a thick, pungent fog that obscures all visibility. It's a miserable, drab thing, and to top it all off, since she's arrived, it hasn’t stopped _raining_.

She's huddled in the transport ship, shivering as she boots up the life support systems and tries to get as close as possible to the heating vents in the hope of drying out her sodden clothes. She’s soaked through and miserable, having wasted the day waiting in vain for a break in the downpour so that she could venture out and set up camp. Not only that, but she is _alone_ , and she hates it. She’s gotten used to company over the last few months, and now that she’s been effectively banished to the ass-end of the galaxy on a mission to battle her inner demons, she’s been distanced from the few individuals she’d grown close enough to consider friends, or even family, and their absence gapes like a hole within her chest.

When she can feel her fingers once more, she rifles through her gear for her supply of rations, fumbling with the fiddly ties of a packet of dried stew until she damn near throws it across the cockpit, burying her head into her hands as she lets out a groan of frustration.

“ _Frag.”_

This wasn’t going to work. There’s a sharp line of tension running through her, hot beneath her skin, and winding her so tight that she feels on the verge of breaking. Her skin feels as if it's been stretched too thin, leaving her exhausted and frustrated and preventing her from finding any peace in meditation.

She recognizes the symptoms, even as she strives to ignore them. Her inability to ignore her basal urges is a flaw, another obstacle to be surmounted in her journey to find the peace required of true a Jedi knight. Tonight, however, she was just Rey. Not a jedi, nor a student; just a scavenger from Jakku, and all too human.

There was nothing for it.

Putting aside the sachet of rations for later - she wouldn’t be able to eat until she’d dealt with this – she grabs a hygiene pack and scrubs at her hands and face, paying close attention to the grime that had accumulated under her nails, and the streaks of mud on her arms from when she’d braved the elements to dig out a latrine earlier.

When she’s satisfied that she is clean, or at least _hygienic_ , she shucks off her damp outer layers and stuffs them into a corner, situating herself in front of the heaters until she’s reclining comfortably in the pilot’s chair in just her undershirt and pants. She takes a deep breath, and holds it, letting it out slow and even as she rests her hands against her stomach.

_Alright._

She closes her eyes and imagines that she’s somewhere far, far away from here.

She imagines there are larger hands skimming across her skin, barely there touches as her hands trail down her neck, across her clavicle and between the furrow of her breasts. Her breath catches as she teases herself, nails dragging lightly across her skin, and imagines she isn't alone, another set of eyes watching her as she sets her body alight.

She shivers, pressing her nails harder against her skin. She remembers the fantasies that used to keep her company during the coldest nights in the desert, her few fumbled experiences with the opposite sex. A slow, creeping warmth climbs up her back, pooling at the base of her spine.

She sighs.

One hand trails lower, dragging along the muscles of her abdomen, following her curves, the dip of her skin towards her underwear. She feels warm, too warm, and so she shucks her shirt, shimmying out of her pants until she's clothed in little more than a breast band and panties. The small breeze generated by the circulating air within the small ship brushes against her skin, and she shivers again, imagining warm breath as her hands resume their exploration of her body. 

 _I'm here_ , she imagines, warm arms enclosing her, holding her close. Their light touch is careful, reverent, and she sighs. _You aren't alone anymore._

Her breathing has deepened by the time her hands dip lower once more, trailing towards the center of herself, and the heat she finds there. Her eyes flutter shut as she touches herself, imagines her companion doing the same as they breathe together, their weight a comforting pressure against her back. Her fingers are cold against her sex, a sharp contrast to the heat there, and she clutches herself with the other hand, pinching the bud of a nipple between her fingers as her body rolls with the sensation. Gods, has it been _a while._

An excitement starts to build within the pool of her chest, clenching the muscles tight within her abdomen as she curls into her hand, massaging herself in small, sure circles that soon pushes her to the point of breaking. She can't, though- she can't go _alone_ , and the thought angers her as much as it frustrates her, as she is _close_ , so _close_.

 _You're not alone._ Another voice joins her frustrated internal monologue, and she's too far gone to identify it, but as she's the only cognizant thing on this godforsaken planet, she can't find the space to care. _Let go._

She gives a gasp, toes curling as the tension inside her coils even tighter, before suddenly, it snaps. The dam breaks and she is drowned within sensation, wave after wave of pleasure that leaves her skin tingling, her muscles trembling from head to toe, and somewhere amidst the final tremors, warm and sated, she falls asleep.

She dreams of large hands and hard, bruising kisses, trailing her jaw, her throat, leaving dark marks against her collarbone and clavicle. Dark eyes are keen on hers as they trail down her body, worshiping her breasts, the dip of her belly button, the jut of her hips, before they settle between her legs, and she bucks under his tongue as he eats her from the inside out. She breaks with his name on her lips, and it feels like it scalds her tongue to say it.

When she wakes, the small ship is cold and empty, but the rain has stopped. She moves quickly, dressing herself in short, abrupt movements as she collects the necessary supplies for building shelter, the place she’ll need to live in for the indeterminate future. Never again, she promises herself as she pushes through the narrow cockpit and takes her first few steps into the muggy air, dank with humidity and the stink of sulphur. She makes the promise, but she knows she won’t keep it.

\--

The next night she dreams, he's there. Maskless, pale skin standing out stark against the blackness of the cloth he drapes himself in, her name a ghost of a whisper across his lips.

He's clothed, she notes, while she is not. He has the advantage, and she would be more annoyed about that if he hadn't taken that final step to close the distance between them and caught her mouth in a kiss. It's passion and fury combined, punishing almost as his gloved hands roam her body, pressing tightly along her curves as she gasps into his mouth, and he takes advantage of the opening to deepen the kiss.

Touch me, she wants to ask, her hands buried in his hair, tearing his mouth away as she moves to taste his jaw, the skin of his throat, moving up to bite the lobe of his ear and soften the sting with her tongue. She can feel his groan through her chest where they meet, the skin flushed and hot to the touch, the layers that had previously separated them gone. They're lying on a bed, entangled in a mess of limbs, and she’s hovering above him, trailing her mouth along his skin until she can taste where the flush meets his chest.

" _Rey_."

His grip flexes from where he clutches the back of her head, and she makes her way lower, feathering kisses along his waistband, stealing glances as she goes to see his reaction. Like her, he's coming undone, his skin flushed down to his chest, his eyes burning in their intensity as he follows her progress. She has all of his attention, and she finds she likes it.

She runs a hand down the front of him, keeping her touch light even as she feels him straining against the fabric, and he gives a low growl, pulling her back to him to crush their lips together once more as he rolls into her, an action that has them both gasping at the sensation.

 _“Rey…”_ Her name is a sigh, breathed out on a shaky exhale as she rolls her body experimentally against his, chasing the feeling that he’d invoked with his movements, and he lets out another growl that’s almost a groan, mimicking the gesture until they’ve both been reduced to a sweaty, panting mess.

They crest the wave of pleasure together, wrapped tightly around each other, the few remaining layers between them soaked with the combination of them both. He strokes a hand through her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple, and the gesture is softer, more tender than she would have expected.

" _I'm coming for you._ "

\--

On the third night, there's a change in the Force, a shift so subtle she probably wouldn't have noticed it if she hadn't been spending the day in meditation.

His warning in her dream had been practically prophetic. Kylo Ren was here.

She keeps an eye on the sky as she goes through the motions of packing up her camp, her mind whirling with a thousand different things as she tries to figure out what this means. She had been asleep and dreaming when it'd happened, as she had been most of the times previously. She hadn't felt his intrusion, and really, with the distance and her improved defenses, it shouldn't have been _possible_.

Yet, she could feel his presence as clear as if he stood before her, taste the memory of him on her tongue, although they hadn't seen each other in over three months.

The Force shivers in the air around her, and she can feel him searching for her, the brilliant flare of his energy at the edges of her consciousness. 

She didn't have time to consider the _why_ , now, and sighing, she steps back, eyeing her handiwork. Her supplies are well hidden, although there's not much she can do about disguising the ship. She's yanked out the power converters and hidden them, too, but if he decides to sabotage her only means of getting off of this planet... she can only hope he wouldn't be that vindictive.

(Her inner voice laughs at that.)  

With her lightsaber clipped securely to her belt and her cloak pulled in tight around her, she's deems herself as ready as she's going to get. She shrugs on her light pack of essential supplies and makes her way to the edge of her makeshift camp, taking a deep, steadying breath before she makes her way into the jungle.


	2. Collision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“There’s only so much Luke Skywalker can teach you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This second chapter was brought to you with the help of a glass or three of a nice malbec, as holy _shit._ Hold onto your pants, folks, and check the updated tags.
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderfully patient Evil_bunny_king. All remaining mistakes are mine~

The weather on Dagobah does not improve over the course of many long hours of walking. The landscape is a stark contrast to the dry, arid heat of her former home, and the journey is difficult, far more difficult than she’d expected. She has to stop frequently to catch her breath and shake off the feeling that she’s suffocating, slowly drowning in air that’s too thick to breathe.

She’s been relying on the Force to navigate, focusing all of her energy and will into finding her destination and trusting her feet to find the correct path, in the hope that she could accomplish her mission and leave this godforsaken planet before she has to engage in another confrontation. She has little hope of success, however, as it quickly becomes evident that the cryptic advice of her mentor _(_ ‘ _you’ll know when you’ve found it; you’ll feel it like a cold grip on your soul’)_ makes about as much sense on the surface as it had on the ship, when she’d first uncovered it amongst the navigational instructions.

So far, she’s felt little aside from exhaustion from the heat and the uncomfortable, suffocating sensation of the heavy humidity, and so she resorts to picking a direction at random, trusting her senses to guide her from there.

The rain lets up after a while, which is a welcome relief, although it does little to help her navigate the treacherous landscape. She has to rely on the skills she'd picked up from skirting quicksand on Jakku to circumvent the stinking sulphur pits that litter this planet, and if she didn't know better, she would have thought Skywalker had sent her here to die.

_“Don’t be afraid.”_

She takes a deep breath, banishing her darker thoughts and the fears surrounding them. Whatever else, she trusted Luke, and that would be enough.

It would have to be.

\--

When the heat and humidity become too much and she’s forced to take a break or choke down the urge to retch, she reaches out with the force, extending her reach through the swampy jungle around her, searching for the roiling, tumultuous surge of energy that identified Kylo Ren.

So far, her searches have revealed nothing, but she’s not naïve enough to assume that her lack of success means anything in the long run. He has years on her, and training in both Jedi and Sith arts, and she’s under no illusion that he couldn’t simply mask his presence from her perception.

She's attempted to do the same, drawing on the energy around her and manipulating it to mimic the ambient glow of the wildlife around her, but she has little confidence in her mastery of the technique. Luke had only shown her the trick once, instead choosing to focus their training on the consolidation of her mental defences, and she'd never felt the need to practice it until now.

She startles as the undergrowth near her erupts into a flurry of movement, and a strange animal with many, _many_ legs bursts out of a crop of sick-looking reeds and lands on the animal trail she’s been following for the past hour. It’s a splay of too-many limbs and strange, leathery skin, a disgustingly rodent-like thing that burrows into the opposing hedgerow with a high-pitched squeal reminiscent of the giant desert rats that infested the larger star destroyer wrecks on Jakku, and by the _Force_ , her heart drums in her chest as if Kylo Ren had just burst from the bushes himself.

If _that_ was this planet’s equivalent of a vermin infestation, she would be more than happy when she could finally leave this place; set this planet firmly in her ion trail, and never return.

The sun is beginning to set by the time she finally reaches a place that’s suitable for setting up a temporary camp: a muddy clearing on the outskirts of a vast, murky pool of water, free from both reeds and fog. It's not ideal - the water is stagnant, and clearly undrinkable - but it's free of the stink of sulphur and reasonably dry, which is a first, and she'll take it.

She sets up her portable travel tent in the shade of a massive tree, with a trunk wider than the AT-AT she’d called home back in the desert. After crushing a handful of purification tablets into a container of rain water she’d collected earlier and fixing up the essentials, she settles down to her first proper meal of the day – stew with unidentifiable meat cubes – and settles down for the night.

\--

Her eyes are closed in meditation when she senses a flare of brilliant energy, terrible and all too-familiar, rapidly approaching from the west. His presence had appeared without precursor or warning, and she suspects that the only reason he’d unmasked at all was to prove a point: that his abilities far exceeded hers, even after months of training under his former master.

She only has a few moments to gather her senses, pushing herself onto her feet as she draws on her connection with the force and reaches for the weapon clipped neatly to her belt, palming the comfortable grip. The thrum of familiar energy at her fingertips steadies her, helps her find the strength and focus she needs to dispel the last of her disquiet thoughts from her mind.

She’s ready and waiting by the time he steps out of the treeline, a stark dark outline against the dismal grey backdrop of fog and mist.

Kylo Ren.

The climate has taken its toll on him: sweat beads at his brow, and his chest rises and falls in heavy pants in the damp, humid air. He’s dressed down to reflect the heat, shedding much of his outer armour in favour of manoeuvrability, and the fewer layers serve to emphasise his height and narrow frame. Unexpectedly, though, his face is also bare, and seeing him unmasked for the first time since their battle on Starkiller brings its own conflict of feelings.

His face is familiar in a way it shouldn’t be, and her gut clenches, twisting at the juxtaposition of dream and reality, even as she forces the images from her mind. Smaller things, like the clear signs of youth in his face, remind her of other painful truths: of what he’d been before he’d become _Ren,_ and almost unconsciously, she finds herself searching his face for the reminders of his heritage; the strongly arched bridge of his father, the delicate features of his mother.

She can feel the darkness within him; feel the way it twists him, smothering the light. It’s anger and pain, visceral in a way that she can feel through the force, almost as if it was her own. She should hate him and some small, dark part of her does; but she also finds that she feels remorse for him, and the man he could have been.

Compassion, Luke had said, was crucial to the ethos of the jedi. For the first time, she thinks she understands what he means.

Almost as if he can sense the direction of her thoughts, his grip flexes around his weapon and he takes another step, bringing him out from under the trees. His features are composed into a stoic mask, but she can feel the roiling tension underneath, the promise of violence. The long strands of his hair stick to the sides of his face, but his gaze is calm and measured, considering as he takes her in.

She’s prepared for the sudden pressure against her skull when he launches the first attack, deep and sharp. It’s a simple thing to shove him from her mind though; construct the necessary walls around the perimeter of her thoughts to shield her mind from his.

 _That won’t work on me anymore,_ she wants to say, but doesn’t.

His expression doesn’t change as the strength of his attack wanes, tapering off into nothing, but his eyes are like fire, burning under the intensity of his focus. She can feel the tension he carries like a weight in the air between them, as heavy and solid as the humidity.

“There’s only so much Luke Skywalker can teach you.” His voice is low as he speaks, pitched to a murmur, and barely audible. The anger simmers within him, roiling just beneath the surface, and it’s a stark reminder of their last conversation on Starkiller base, and the offer he’d made her.

He takes a step forward, and she activates her weapon, the brilliant light of the blade arching into the space between them. He ignites his own with a flick of his thumb and she plants her left foot behind her, settling into her favoured opening stance.

He’s traveled the length of the galaxy to find her on this godforsaken planet, and she has no intention of losing any more ground.

He looks almost pleased as he takes in her stance, the high curve of her blade, weight settled comfortably on the balls of her feet, before he rotates his blade, cutting it in an arc around his body as he settles into a lower, single-handed stance that she doesn’t recognise; his other hand stretched before him, waiting.

“Are you ready?”

There’s a pause barely longer than a breath, before they leap towards each other, clashing in an explosion of bright sparks.

\--

This is the second time she’s crossed blades with Kylo Ren, and it couldn’t be more different.

It doesn’t help that the terrain is little more than mud and water, the force of their strikes sending them both skidding across the slick surface. More than once, she has to check her footing, relying on instincts bred into her by the shifting sands of Jakku to keep her feet, and it only gets worse when they get close enough to grapple, striking out with fists and feet in a combination of kata and forms until their fight is more of a dance than anything else.

A subtle shove with the Force puts some distance between them again, and the air fills with sparks as their blades cross once more, filling the clearing with bright, burning splinters of crimson and azure.

She’s learned to protect herself from the unique combination of physical and force based attacks Ren uses in combat. Her training had progressed rapidly under Luke’s tutelage, honing her already considerable control over the Force and their blades clash in a volley of violent sparks as she parries the strikes he rains down on her, holding him back again and again.

Still he keeps on _coming,_ though. His blows only grow in strength as his anger kindles to life, a brilliant fury that saturates his movements and despite her training, she’s still no match for him in combat. Uninjured and well-rested, he’s a blaze of fury and motion, an unstoppable force bearing down on her. It doesn’t take her long to realise that if this keeps up, she will _lose_. She doesn’t have his endless reserves, and if she doesn’t go on the offensive now, she will never find the opportunity before her strength runs out. After that, it’s only a matter of time before she finds herself with his saber against her throat.

However, it’s not as if he’ll just _give_ her an opportunity to attack – if she wants one, she’ll have to take it for herself.

Taking the brunt of his attack on the guard of her saber, she lashes out with a knee, pushing him off balance as he steps back to avoid it, and moves forward into his space. Ducking under his reach, she whirls, pivoting on her heel as she brings up her blade, striking at his undefended side.

She manages to get _one_ strike past his guard, a glancing blow to the thigh that sears through the layers of clothing and has him hissing through his teeth in a sharp exhale of air. He retaliates with a brutal shove with the force that sends her skidding across the clearing, barely managing to maintain her balance, and then he moves after her, his blade whirling in a crimson arc as he closes the distance between them.

He doesn’t wait for her to regain her footing before he lashes out with another push of the force that she just manages to rebuff, regaining her stance just in time to defend herself from another flurry of blows. He’s stronger, the pain only serving to further increase the strength of his attacks, and it takes all of her focus to keep up with him, prevent his whirling blade from slicing into her skin.

She gives up her position, falling back as his strikes gain in weight and velocity, angling towards the other end of the clearing. If she can get close enough to the treeline, then maybe she can find an opportunity to break away, and lose him within the swampy jungle.

Except -- she’d forgotten about the state of their field of combat, and the particularly treacherous nature of the ground underfoot.

Her right foot loses traction as she shifts to a lower stance, sending her to her knees as she reaches up with her saber to block the strike that follows. Her arms strain under the pressure as his grip shifts on the weapon, bearing down on the strike until they’re locked in close enough that she can hear the pants of his breath, meet his eyes when they turn to hers.

“Yield.” His voice is quiet, muted and steady despite the marks of strain that are evident across his expression. The words push at the edge of her mind, compelling, and she almost screams under the strain of holding him back on both fronts when he’s so physically _close_. “ _Yield_.”

_“No!”_

Her grip on her weapon is slipping, and she’s not going to be able to keep this up for much longer. Desperate, she musters up the last of her strength for one last _shove_ with the Force, pouring all that she has left into it as she wills for something to _give_.

Her grip slips, and her lightsaber is shoved from her hands, the blade retracting as the connection breaks, and she can hear the thump of the hilt as it hits the ground, rolling into the surrounding undergrowth, out of her reach. Overbalanced, she falls backwards, crashing back onto the wet soil as he follows her down, a crushing weight against her chest as the full length of his body blankets her. With nothing left between her and his blade, she braces herself for the final strike, eyes squeezing shut in preparation for the pain.

_I’m sorry, Luke._

\--

The strike never comes.

The same moment she loses her grip on her saber, Kylo’s grip on his weapon slips, struck by an unseen blow that twists the weapon out of his grip; and before he can reconcile what is happening, he’s disarmed; the hilt of his weapon rolling off into the undergrowth.

He doesn’t give her a chance to retaliate, lurching forward to grab her by the wrists, restraining her even as her fingers flex to curl into fists. Their minds clash once more in a flurry of aggression and rebuttal, but they’re both exhausted to the point that neither side takes or cedes any ground.

His grip flexes around her wrists, but he can do little else from this angle, and so they pause for breath, at an impasse.

She's panting, chest heaving with the strain of the battle, and she takes comfort in the fact that he looks little better, mud streaking his face. He's examining her, she realises, just as she is examining him, taking in the details of his face and how they've changed. There's a long, pink scar that bisects the left side of his face where there wasn't one before, and her breath catches when she recognises it. It's healed well for a lightsaber burn; Finn's were wide and deep, dark brands against his skin that he'd carry for life. He'd lost some of the sensitivity in the skin there too, and she wonders if Ren's feel the same.

She realises she's staring and pulls her eyes away, catching his gaze from where they’ve focused on hers, waiting. His eyes are dark and piercing, filled with that same, strange intensity that she’d noticed the first time they met, and as she watches, they flicker lower, settling with unmistakeable intent on her mouth.

Her breath catches as he closes the distance between them and catches her mouth in a kiss.

His lips are soft like velvet, definitely outside the realm of anything she could have imagined, let alone dreamed. Her hands curl into fists, trembling within his grip, but instead of fighting him, or using the Force to push him away, she finds herself leaning into the kiss, chasing the movement of his lips as they skate across her own.

The clenching in her gut has morphed into something else entirely, a curling, twisting tension that culminates in a gasp.

_Oh._

There’s a triumphant glint in his eye when he withdraws to gauge her expression, his breath hot across her lips as he exhales in a long and heady breath. His eyes trace her features, following the curve of her cheekbones, the arch of her nose, meeting her gaze before returning to her mouth. The fluttering sensation in her stomach increases, until her blood is singing with it.

He kisses her again, then: slow and deliberate, carefully mapping the lines of her mouth. She can sense his curiosity as his fingers curl around her wrists, the soft leather of his gloves brushing against her skin as his thumbs trace the outline of the tendons just below the surface. He kisses her as if they have all the time in the world, and she gives as good as she gets: kissing him back with a fervour edged with teeth and tongue until they're both gasping for breath.

Finally, they break apart, panting as they breathe into each other’s space. His pupils are blown, yet his eyes are bright, brighter than she’s ever seen them. His emotions are clearly written across his face, his cheeks flushed as he leans back, replacing some of the distance between them, taking in her reaction, and her cheeks burn under the scrutiny. She knows she can’t look that much better than him, not with the way her skin burns and her heart beats a rapid rhythm within her chest.

His eyes are brilliant when they focus on hers again, the sharp edge of a grin on his lips as his hands flex in their grip around her wrists.

Then he lets her go.

\--

There’s a moment where time seems to stand still and the change registers between them, before she’s reaching for him.

She’s anger and fury, her hands finding their way into his hair as she uses the leverage to pull his head back, exposing his throat. There’s a voice inside her that urges her to react, tear his fucking _throat out_ – and another that wants to pull him closer, chase the tantalising hint of what _could be_ between them, regardless of the consequences.

She settles on a compromise and presses her mouth to his throat, tasting his skin with long, open-mouthed kisses as he releases a shuddering breath beneath her. Her hands climb down his body as she traces the lines of his throat, biting at the juncture of his shoulders until he’s shuddering, his body rolling beneath hers as their mouths find each other again. His hands curl around waist, dragging her closer as his thigh presses between her legs, warm and solid against her, and she finds herself grinding against him, chasing the contact.

From there, it’s a slow, inevitable descent into madness.

\--

Clumsy fingers chase the heat of sweat-warmed skin, sliding beneath the layers that separate them as she bites at his mouth, moving back to relieve him of his shirt and smooth her hands along his chest, mapping the ridges of his scars like a tapestry beneath her fingertips.

He arches beneath her touch, a hand clutched at her back as he pushes them upright and responds in kind, the soft leather of his gloves dragging against her skin as he levers her shirt over her head and throws it to the side. He presses soft, heated kisses against the skin of her throat as his hands make quick work of her breast band, and she bites on the heel of her hand to stifle the noises she makes as his mouth descends there, too.

Somehow, she manages to find her voice. _“Not here.”_

It’s the first time she’s spoken since this whole mess started, and it’s startling just how breathless she sounds. His hands stall from where they’ve slipped down to her lower back, his breath heavy against her skin as he mouths the line of her jaw, sucking a bruise into the juncture of her neck and throat.

She pushes him away when it verges on the edge of painful, biting at his mouth, his throat, leaving a bruise of her own against his skin as he lets out a sharp exhale, the air hissing between his teeth.

“Not here,” he echoes. Unspoken, but somehow just as clear, he asks, _then where?_

She glances over to her makeshift campsite and her small travel tent that provides barely enough protection against the elements to make it acceptable, and he nods, shifting his grip to her thighs. He lifts her before she can protest, wrapping her legs around his waist as he makes short work of the distance. From there, it’s an easy matter of kicking out the bedroll before they collapse on top of it in a tangle of limbs, and she barely has the chance to catch her breath before his mouth is on hers again.

His gaze is bright and burning, heavy-lidded as he takes her in, his cheeks flushed with excitement and desire. _“Rey.”_

It’s the first time she’s heard him say her name outside of her dreams and it’s almost sinful how his tongue curls around it, turning the single syllable into a seductive purr.

Casual touches turn into something more meaningful as his kisses gets harder, more urgent, and he makes his way down to her chest. The leather of his gloves drag against her skin, making her shiver as his hands trail down her body and yank off her underwear.

His eyes are dark as his hands roams between them, mapping the lines of her body, before he raises them to tear his gloves off with his teeth and reaches down to press against her, sinking into her heat.

“I dreamed of you like this.” The curl of his fingers makes her arch, biting down on her lip to stifle the sound as he mouths at her chest, draws a nipple into his mouth and _sucks._ He grinds the heel of his hand against her as he grinds his erection against her thigh, and her body bucks against him as she chases the pressure, seeking more contact.

She needs _more_ , and she claws her fingers into his hair, dragging him back up to meet her in a kiss that is more teeth than anything else.

“ _…’en.”_ The names blur into one, until even she can’t tell which one she used. He hears her, though, and climbs further down her body in a trail of love bites, biting at the points of her hip bones before he settles between her legs, his breath hot against the center of her. His eyes are deep and dark, almost consumed by the width of his pupils as he waits until she’s caught his gaze, mouth trailing along the skin of her inner thigh.

“Can I taste you?”

She nods, and barely has a chance to catch her breath before he’s licking his way between her legs, and _shit_.

It’s nearly too much, and she bites down on her lip to stifle the sounds that build in her chest as she struggles to keep her hips from bucking involuntarily against his mouth. He holds her steady, pressing her back into the bedroll as he explores her with his fingers, lips still pressed against her, and it’s only his hands that keep her that anchored to reality as her vision explodes into a sea of sparks. Her teeth are beginning to get painful against her lip, and he breaks away from her, cheeks flushed as he catches his breath, eyes on hers.

“I want to hear you.” He reaches up, cupping her face, gently prying her lower lip from between her teeth, before adding, _“please."_

She nods, and he delves back between her legs, pressing his mouth against her until she bucks beneath him and breaks under his tongue with a shuddering gasp.

He’s hot and heavy against her hip, and her skin is _singing_ with her desire for him, her body arching beneath him, and it’d be a simple thing to just—

She draws him back up her body, biting down on her lip as he chases her with his tongue, tasting the flush that has spread across her entire body. She _aches_ with her need for him, but -- they aren’t prepared. _She_ isn’t prepared, hadn’t expected to end up in this situation, and they-- “we _can’t.”_

He kisses her again, long and thorough, even as he moves to cup his hands around her face. “I know.”

But she _wants_ , and as he breaks away to bury his face into her stomach, shuddering as his hips jerk against the bedroll, she drags him forward, cupping his face as she situates him between her thighs. He opens his mouth to protest, but she quiets him with a kiss, losing herself in the glide of tongues and teeth, before she pulls back, clasping her hands behind her knees, resting her calves on his shoulder as she presses her thighs together and guides him into the space between them.

He rolls his hips experimentally, brushing against her heat as he adjusts his position and thrusts again, and while it’s not quite what either of them wanted, it’s _enough._

He places a kiss against the underside of her knee, snaking a hand between them to press against her already overstimulated center as the other clutches at her hips, bringing her in tighter. She flails out with a hand, reaching for him, and he entwines their fingers, pressing a kiss over their joined hands as he falls into a rolling rhythm, and she feels as if the world shatters around them.

It’s more intense than her previous encounters, the emotions resonating between them, and she can feel the ragged pull of his breathing, the stutter of his hips as he works himself to completion between her thighs; the satisfactions as he spills, warm and thick, against her stomach. She revels in the pleasure that comes from his orgasm, feeling it as if it were her own.

\--

They’re tangled around each other, limbs and minds entwined, and whatever barrier that had been separating them is gone. She can no longer tell where she ends and he begins, and time passes in a blur of idle touches and kisses until they’re curled around each other, on the edge of sleep.

His voice is a quiet murmur against her ear as he presses another soft, lingering kiss to the skin there. “Come with me.” Softer, unspoken, he adds, _you don’t have to be alone anymore._

Yearning pricks at her like a thorn inside her chest, tightening her lungs and shortening her breath. She can’t respond; she’s too tired, not even sure what she wants. His arm tightens around her, pulling her closer, and when she falls into sleep, she dreams of frozen forests, and brilliant, blazing eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my beta and I had a _wonderful_ time editing this so I could post this, and just. Barrel rolls. It was terrible. 
> 
> AN UPDATE: this story has officially grown legs and run away with itself. I've opened up the chapter count, as I'm honestly not sure exactly how long this is going to be. Be forewarned.
> 
> ALSO, there is a prequel to this in the works, the original post-tfa story that spawned this plot. Keep an eye out for it, it should be published in the next few weeks


	3. Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Come with me,” he says. You don’t have to be alone anymore._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's one more chapter in the works for this, folks! Apologies for the delay; the last month has been ridiculously busy, and big decisions are coming up..!

_“Come with me,”_ he says. _You don’t have to be alone anymore._

The desert stretches around her, a wasteland of sand and dust, sweeping dunes littered with the scrap of a half-forgotten war. The wreckage of an AT-AT – her home – is shadowed in the distance, stark and lonely against the desolate landscape, and she tries to pull away but can’t, her feet drawing her unerringly towards it. Memories of her childhood rise to the fore; her struggle to eke out an existence amidst all this, fighting against the feeling that this scrap of metal and dust is all that she will ever be, all she has to look forward too.  _They will come for me. They will._

They never do.

The feeling of loneliness swells, threatening to swallow her whole.

_Rey._

She turns, and the landscape changes, morphing into a forest of towering trees -- a kaleidoscope of burnt oranges and reds. The light of this system’s star filters weakly through the leaves, embuing the scene with a dreamlike quality, and she can hear the babble of water in a nearby stream. It’s beautiful, filling her with a sense of peace and  _home_ , and yet she knows that it can't last. It doesn't. She falls to her knees in the underbrush, her eyes filling with tears as the stink of smoke fills her nose, suffocating as the air ripples under the heat and the forest around them burns.

_Come here. You're okay, kid. You're okay._

The scene fades, and is replaced instead by a voice that is simultaneously familiar and unknown to her, warm and encouraging.  _You will be safe with Uncle Luke. He will train you to be a jedi._

She senses him, then. His presence flickers, a pulse of life through the smoke and she follows, navigating the haze of dream and memory until she stumbles onto something she didn’t expect, something new, which confirms her suspicions.

These aren’t her memories.

She’s standing in a mountainous region, the lines harsher as if carved out of the rock that line her path, treacherous underfoot. It's not long before she finds herself facing an old ruin, decrepit were it not for the modern refurbishments that adorn the sides. She can hear the sounds of children playing in the distance, but they are muted, as if heard through glass, an invisible barrier that left feeling alone and isolated, as if she was viewing this world through her viewport, separated from these lives by heavy metal and glass and the vacuum of space. 

She finds him on the floor of the first temple, his hair tied into a knot at the base of his skull, dressed in loose fitting pale robes of beige and tan. His eyes are closed, his face turned up towards the starlight that filters through the cracks in the crumbling walls before him, the flickering light casting dancing shadows across his delicate features.

Ben Solo.

His appearance is young; barely a man, yet she can feel the shape of him beneath these ill-fitting garments, the blend of Solo and Ren, the past and the present. Glancing down, she sees that she's changed as well -- clothed in similar robes, loose fitting and comfortable, and her hands are clean, unmarred from the scars and callouses she'd built up over the years.  

It's a strange image and she tries not to dwell on it as she takes another step forward, making her way deeper into the small chapel. Her foot catches on a loose rock with her approach, sending it clattering across the stones and her breath catches in her throat as he stiffens at the noise. She freezes in place, uncertain, wary of his reaction as he turns to face her and recognition flickers across his features.

For a long moment there’s quiet, broken only by the soft sounds of the forest around the temple, the murmur of the stream that cuts through the ruins. When he finally speaks, his voice is calm, measured.

“Rey.”

Facing him is a revelation in and of itself. There is no trace of the anger that had burned within him so fiercely before; none of the fury, the fear. There’s only the pain, quiet and deep, like a wound that has been left untreated for too long. It’s intimate in a way she hadn’t expected, hadn’t been prepared for, and it’s hard to hold his gaze, to read the emotions displayed so openly across his features. 

She has to look away, focusing instead on his eyes, the only part that of him she recognises within his strange face.  “How is this possible?”

His eyes are dark, his expression unreadable. “I’m… not sure. There is a connection between us, a bond. The Force moves strongly through the both of us, moreso than before now that we've...” 

He trails off, and she breaks away from his gaze, her cheeks burning with a heat that flushes all the way down to her neck. She’s grateful when he doesn’t pursue the subject.

They fall into a comfortable silence, and she examines the temple around them, admiring the graceful curves of the structure, the intricacy of the details carved into the stone. The architecture here is old, although not quite as old as the ruins on Ach-To. She can sense the presence of her master here, as well as the smaller flares of other users of the Force.

It doesn't take her long to piece the clues together and she takes a closer look at the boy in front of her, absorbing the nuances: the neat braid combed behind his ear, the fresh callouses that litter his palms. He can't be more than fifteen. "I didn't know you still dreamed of your past."

He doesn't meet her gaze, but she can sense the tension in him, see the way his grip flexes at his sides, his hands tightening into fists. He takes a deep, calming breath, his weight shifting on the stone before he admits, “this is a first.”

He meets her gaze then, dark and glittering in the half-light. The intensity is unmatched, almost unnerving in such a young face, but she can see the hints of the boy beneath, juxtaposing against the steel in his gaze as he pierces her with his stare. 

"Why are you here?"

She answers him honestly, "I don't know."

The light turns, the shadows deepening as the outlines of the chapel soften with the failing light, the arches of stone fading into the dusk. His presence is steady again when he gets to his feet, his form morphing until it's Ren that stands before her, confident and sure as he closes the short distance between them. 

He hesitates when he reaches her, his eyes flickering across her features as he cups the side of her face within his palm. She can feel him at the fringes of her mind, careful as he reaches out to her across their connection.  _Rey_.

She surprises them both when she makes the first move, leaning forward until she can catch his mouth with hers.

It's tentative and soft, more of a question than a kiss and he responds similarly, his thumb smoothing down the curve of her cheek as he maps out the shape of her mouth with his. It’s a chaste kiss, an affectionate gesture, and her heart flutters within her chest as she closes her eyes and falls into it.

Idle touches turn into caresses as the kiss deepens and his hand moves back to tangle themselves within the strands of her hair, clutching her closer. The connection between them surges, stealing her breath as the lines between them blur once more. She can sense him there on the periphery of her thoughts; skim the top layer of his emotions as they bleed into hers, his excitement growing as he feeds off of her own.

It's more than that, though: she can feel the conflict within him, the tiny thread of light that still twisted around certain memories and thoughts, bleeding through the overwhelming weight of the darkness that sought to snuff it out completely.

He breaks away with a gasp, turning his face away as his hands curl at her sides, trembling. She shudders as the energy between them twists, fluctuating under the sudden burst of anger.  _Don’t_.

The energy between them changes, shifting into a burning, twisted form of the Force that whispers of power and hate. She draws back, breaking away from the embrace as she reinstates the distance between them; chest heaving as she's struggles to catch her breath. The thud of her heartbeat is loud in her ears, drowning out the quiet sounds of the temple and the forest around them.

He watches her, cheeks flushed, expression overwhelmed and confused as she takes another stumbling step back. Too late, he reaches for her, grasping at the empty air.  _Rey-_

_No._

She can't do this.

She places another step between them, breaking their connection. Something in her chest aches as she leaves him in the shadows of the temple, and she breaks into a run, losing herself amongst the blur of their shared memories.

 

\--

 

He chases her through landscapes of fog and ice, forest and desert; places both remembered and imagined alike. She's fast, impossibly fast -- managing to slip through his grasp every time he closes in, leaving him with little more than tantalising, fleeting glimpses before she’s gone; a memory amidst the dust and the wind. 

He wakes exhausted, his body coated in sweat and taught with tension. He can tell without the force that she is already gone, and the anger rises with the recognition, fuelled by his frustration.

He has failed, again.

His fingers curl into the thick fabric of the uncomfortable bedroll, feeling for the phantom warmth of her skin where it had burned against his last night as he draws on his connection to the force, projecting his senses outward, searching. The traces of her remain, fragments of her power lingering like an after image on his skin, the fabric beneath him, but he can no longer sense her presence in the forest, even when he opens himself up fully to the energies that flow around him, teeth gritted against the strain of maintaining the connection.

He vents his frustration on the equipment she has left behind; taking a small measure of satisfaction in the unbridled violence and the destruction he leaves in his wake. Once little is left of the makeshift campsite aside from a smouldering pile of rubble, he sheathes his saber and follows the trail of trackers he’d placed along his path the day before, taking his time to organise his thoughts as he makes his way back to his ship. 

One thing is clear: his master must never learn of this.

He buries everything; hides them behind the steepest, indomitable walls in his mind, the place where he keeps the few fond memories he has of his childhood, his mother. His master has already looked there --plundering the depths until he’d uncovered each and every last one of his secrets and exposed them for what they were: weaknesses – and as long as Ren performed his duties as his servant, he wouldn’t think to look there again.

Snoke has a claim to a great many things, but these moments, he will keep to himself.

 _Rey_. They are alike, two sides of the same coin, drawing him towards her just as surely as she is drawn towards him. Hefeels the same conflict of forces within her, the light within her flickering, wavering, under the strength of the dark. She’s on the knife’s edge of the Force, and she is powerful, stronger than she knows.

He can see a future for himself with her, and it’s such a stark, sudden change that he has to take a moment to steady himself against a nearby tree, struggling through the maze of his thoughts. 

He’s under no illusions regarding his master’s plans. The death of Kylo Ren would mark the end of the Skywalker legacy, and nearly a century of galactic upheaval and war. For a long time, he’d looked forward to it; the moment when all of this could finally be over.

That was no longer the case. Rey’s potential was greater than he’d seen in any of his uncle’s students, and she wasn’t burdened with the foolish naiveties and hopeful delusions that they had carried, proudly, to their deaths.

Together, they could defeat Snoke and take control of the First Order. Together, they’d reshape the galaxy: make it into something true, something just.

His resolutions firms as the dark shape of the upsilon-class shuttle cuts through the fog, a colossal feat of engineering and fire power. The benefits outweigh the risks of discovery, and when he breaks atmo, he begins stripping down the main systems, identifying the small electronic devices that were designed to broadcast his location and navigational coordinates at all times.

Dismantling the devices take time and patience, both of which he finds in short supply, but it is a necessary evil, and he is nothing but thorough. The military arm of the First Order would play no role in their next confrontation, he’d make sure of it.

When he finds her again, he will take her with him, willingly or not. He won't ask her again. 

\--

 

Last night was a mistake. That much, at least, was clear. 

She’s en route to the Resistance base on D’Qar, her mind in shambles, her hands trembling on the controls as she navigates her little ship through this system’s outer ring of planets towards the interplanetary highway. She keeps an eye on her outer sensors, half-expecting to see the profile of the upsilon-class shuttle preferred by the higher ranking officers of the Order pop up in her sensors, but the screens remain dark, and as she enters the intergalactic highway and engages her FTL engines, she feels a small fraction of the tension leave her.

He hadn’t followed her.

She flips on the autopilot and collapses back into the pilot’s chair _. Thank the force._

She’s sure that the presence of the First Order will be enough explanation for her rapid departure, but it’s not enough to explain away the marks on her skin, the dark crescents and bruises that litter her neck and throat, telling a story that she doesn’t want to think about, let alone repeat aloud.

 _Frag._  Reaching up to the navigational controls, she brings up a star chart of the systems close to the Resistance base. She picks one of the smaller planets of a nearby system, a sparsely populated desert planet that reminds her of home, and adjusts her course.

That will give her enough time, she thinks, to come to terms with this; to think ahead, and plan her next move. She wouldn’t be returning to Dagobah, but that didn’t necessarily mean failure. If last night could count for anything, it at least made it clear that she’d identified the source of her internal conflict.

Compassion would grant her strength as a jedi, but this – her feelings for Ren, or Ben, or whoever he was - went beyond that, influencing her decision and twisting her judgement. If she wanted to follow the path of the jedi, she couldn’t allow herself to be ruled by her emotions – and this was a test, one that she would not fail.

However lonely she felt, however much she’d wanted it at the time, it could never, _would never,_ happen again.

 

\--

 

The Resistance contacts her when the Millennium Falcon reaches Republic space, and she smiles as Finn’s voice crackles over the com, joyous and warm with familiarity and affection. He’s a welcome distraction from her thoughts, which had taken a melancholic turn during the few hours of she’d spent navigating through the local system.

“Back so soon? We didn’t expect you for weeks yet!”

She’s prepared her speech; triple checked the cameras that broadcast her face through the expanse of space between them. “I’m a few days out, but this isn’t an official visit – I need to make some repairs.”

“I see.” Finn looks to the side, disappearing briefly from view as he confers with the person seated to his left. It takes less than a minute before his smile fills her screen once more. “It’s a bit tight, but we could squeeze you in here.”

She waves a hand with a smile on her face, having already expected – and hoped for - this answer. The less conspicuous her absence from the Resistance base was the better. “It’s okay, I can fix it. I’ll check back with you in a few weeks.”

She signs off from the main talk channel with a promise to Finn that she’d take care of herself. Ignoring the small, lingering ache in her chest, she reaches over to the communications array and yanks out the power.


End file.
